A Knights Lament
by Secretlypsychotic
Summary: The old White Knight recalls his first battle, and is filled with doubt and dispar, which reminds him of someone he had meet long ago. Read and Review if you’d like. Completed, yeah...nice.


**A knights' Lament**

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The old knight walked along the side of his horse, giving the old steed a break, guiding the horse with his hands. The pair had been traveling for days now, and still, not at their destination. The old white knight stopped walking, tired, and decided to look around for a good resting spot. He looked up at a steep hill and saw a large tree with some foliage still clinging onto the branches next to an old broken fence.

"There's a good spot," said the knight in a gruff yet velvety voice, "come on old boy," he said as he took the reins, "I'll guide you up the hill."

The horse guided by the knight, followed the old man up the hill; it wasn't an easy trek for either one. Eventually, they reached the top, and the old knight let go of the reins, not fearing of his horse wandering off, and looked around him. The knight looked at the vast view of his once glorious world, now, seeped into decay and darkness. He sat underneath the tree with a thud, his old bones grateful for the weight off of them. He continued to look over the dying land, with regret in his heart. He saw where once the green fields had laid, were replaced by barren dead ground. The flowing rivers that once helped support life in the land, were either now dried up, or were polluted by factories that sprung up like a disease. He then looked up at the sky, once a bright gay blue, now, a dark violet swirling mess of red and black. His eyes followed a pillar of smoke, down towards the distance, and he could see his final destination, hundreds and hundreds of miles away.

The knight sighed, almost defeated in the fact that the castle was so far off. He slumped down and closed his eyes. He was just, so tired. Tired of the decay and misery, tired of all the lives he couldn't save. Tired of the never-ending battle. He looked over at the broken fence post and saw a beautiful sight: A small patch of green grass and a bright, cheerful flower, growing happily in the mist of death. He struggled to his feet again, his body begging him not to get up, but his mind was stronger than his body; he walked over to the grass and picked all but the flower. He walked over to the horse and brought the fress green grass to the horses nose, then tickled it with the grass.

"Hear old boy," said the knight, "some nice grass for you." The horse greedily snatched the grass from the hands of the knight and quickly ate it. The knight looked at his once-proud partner. The horse had gone blind years ago, but the bond between the two didn't stop the horse. The horse now relied on the knight to act as his eyes, and trusted the knight fully for that. The old knight looked at the tired clouded-eyes of his horse, and saw the desperation in them. He rubbed the horse's head between his eyes, and sadly looked at the horses emaciated body. There just wasn't enough green food for the poor beast anywhere, and everyday the horse suffered in silence for it. The horse the nuzzled the knight, begging for more.

"I'm sorry my old friend," said the knight sadly, "there isn't any more grass, but," the knight walked over to the saddlebag, opened it and grabbed an apple that he had found two days ago, "you can have this." The horse smelled the apple and took if from his hands and ate it, grateful for it. The knight sadly smiled and patted the horses head again.

"You've been a loyal companion for years," said the knight to the horse, "I don't know what I would have done without you in these dark times." The horse only snorted as a reply. "I remember when the threats were so few and so small," said the knight still to the horse, but waling back to the tree, "why I remember my first true battle...looking back, my most dangerous one as well." The old knight closed his eyes and painted the picture in his mind.

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"The Jabberwock must be stopped," said the young white knight, only a squire at the time, "if not, it will kill us all!"

"But my boy," said the old master of the squire, "you are not ready for such a beast! Even at my best, in my glory days, I couldn't stand up to such a challenge."

"But if we do nothing," protested the squire, "it will only grow more powerful. We have to do something now, or the time will pass and it _will_ be impossible to kill it!" The old master sighed.

"Youth...such a drunken state of life. Alright my boy, but heed my warnings: beware the Jabberwock, my son!" said the master gravely, "The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!"

"I'll do that and more, sir,"said the squire, not wanting to listen to anymore of the masters advice, "and I will be victorious!"

"Listen to me," pleaded the master, "beware the Jubjub bird, and shun the he frumious Bandersnatch!" The squire sighed, he then turned to the master and said with more respect:

"I will, and I will take in hand and mind of all that you have taught me. With my skills and knowledge, I will be true to the knights code and protect and uphold it till my dying breath." The master nodded, then reached up onto a shelf in his home and pulled down an old long box. He opened the box and took out a blade of seer glory and perfection.

"The vorpal sword," said the master looking at it, "is an ancient weapon of great strength. It has been in my family for generations, now it's time for you to wield it." He handed the sword to the young man, who looked at his master in awe.

"But sir," said the squire, "this sword has been in your family for years, as you just stated, surely it should remain as such." He handed it back to the master.

"Stupid boy," said the master, "you know I've no sons. I took you in as a boy, and have raised you as my own, I consider you my son, therefore, it _is_ saying in the family." The squire looked at the sword with great pride and a bit of vanity.

"But remember," said the master, "a weapon of any kind and of any caliber, is only as good as the master of the weapon." The squire looked at his old master...his father and bowed respectfully at him.

"I promise to keep all of my vows...father...and I will defeat the Jabberwock...one way or another."

"Then go," said the old knight, "and bring back the head as proof of your victory."

"I will." and with a last bow, the squire marched with the sword in hand into the Tulgey Woods.

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The old knight woke with a start, looking around him, seeing what had woken him up. He sighed as it was only his horse, nuzzling him for comfort. The old knight sighed, rubbing the horse's neck, chuckling slightly.

"You woke me from such a wonderful dream," said the old knight, "but it does feel like it happened in a dream, it happened so long ago..." The old knight sighed, and stood up again, reaching again into the saddlebag and took out the canister of water. He took a drink for himself, then poured some into a bowl for the horse, he placed the bowl by the horses mouth, then guided the horse to the ground where he placed the water. The horse sipped the water slowly, not in the mood for drinking but knew that it may not see water for awhile. The old knight sat back down beneath the dying tree, and looked lazily at the land until he started to dream again.

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He had marched and searched for the Jabberwock for what seemed like days, and still no sign of the beast.

"Where is that manxome foe?!" said the youth, angrily kicking the ground 'neath him. The young man sighed, he decided to rest underneath a Tumtum tree for a bit, then continue on his quest. He stood underneath the tree, preferring that instead of sitting so he could be ready if an enemy should strike he would be ready, and cogitating the situation. As he was standing there with an uffish look about him, he heard a something whiffling and burbling. He looked up violently and saw the Jabberwock right above him. Without so much as a snort, the Jabberwock quickly reached over to the youth and tried to snatch him up.

The squire quickly jumped out of the way, the Tumtum tree was bowled over by the strength of the Jabber's arms. The Jabberwock looked around for the man, trying to see where he had hidden himself. The Jabberwock inhaled deeply and breathed out black smoke all around him, trying to smoke out the young man, the Jabberwock wanted the pleasure of squeezing the man to death, rather than burn him.

Coughing and sputtering, the young man was forced out into the open spot the Jabberwock left for the man. The Jabberwock saw the man and lunged forward to snatch up the man in his claws. The squire was prepared for this and slashed at the hand of the beast. The Jabberwock, though hurt, didn't even retract his hand, he continued to snatch at the man. The squire kept repeatingly striking the arms and hands of the Jabberwock while barely dodging it's attacks, but was almost all in vain. The Jabberwock was actually enjoying the fight, finding if amusing that the man was fighting so hard for his life. Eventually, the Jabberwock tripped the man with his tail, causing the sword to fall from his hands and away from his reach. The Jabberwock then pinned the man down on the ground with one hand, the claws and most of his fingers deep into the earth. The Jabberwock brought it's face close to the squire and snickered under its breath.

"Foolish boy," said the Jabberwock menacingly, "you came into my domain thinking that you would kill me and save your pathetic village, and be the hero?"

"I have no town of my own," strained out the squire, hardly able to breath, "I fight for all, and protect for all!"

"You're a knight?" asked the Jabberwock.

"No, I am a squire."

"A squire?!?!" said the Jabberwock, then lifted his head and laughed boomingly till the birds scattered away, he then lowered his head back to the man, "And here I thought that you would be some sort of a threat, but you're nothing more than a joke. A young man who though he was at his perfection just because he was in his prime. Fool! You are never ready for a battle for every battle is different, one differing from the other. You bit off more than you can swallow, and now you will choke on it!" The Jabberwock picked up the ground that the squire was on and threw the dirt-clot to the ground. The squire bounced on the ground, pelted by rocks and dirt that was thrown with him. The young man soon came to a stop and laid there face down on the ground, with labored breath. The Jabberwock smiled at the man, he then crept on the ground like a cat to an injured mouse, slowly and casually.

"Do you know how many of your kind I've killed, just because they though that they were the best? They thought that they were at their peak of their skills and strength, and came to end my life. Little did they realize that skills and strength never go hand in hand. When you are strong enough, you don't possess the skills and knowledge to use them properly, and when you have the skills and knowledge, you are far to old to use them. Clearly, you possess neither." The young man looked up and saw the Jabberwock approaching him on all fours, wings stretched out and quivering in anticipation, then he saw the vorpal sword to the side of the Jabberwock.

"Thank you for the lesson," said the squire, "I'll take it and use it." The Jabberwock laughed.

"Yes, it's a lesson few life to appreciate. I would also like to thank you for filling my afternoon with a bit of entertainment, but now..." suddenly, the Jabberwock stretched out his neck and tried to grab the man with his jaws. The squire was waiting for this, and he quickly rolled to the side and jumped up and grabbed The Jabberwock's ananas. The Jabberwock tuned to try to shake off the man, but he turned in the direction the man wanted him to. As the Jabberwock's head passed over the sword, the squire snatched the vorpal blade up and raised it high over his head. And he swung the sword with all his might at the base of the beast's head, but it only cut half way through. The Jabberwock roared in pain, spewing fire and smoke, trying desperately to shake off the man. The brave squire then pulled out the sword again and the vorpal blade went snicker-snack and severed the head of the Jabberwock. The head rolled off to one side, but the body was still animated, and continued to thrash around. The squire tried to hang on to the bloodied neck of the dead beast, but the blood made it slick and he was flung off into a tree. The vorpal sword flew from his hands and rested near the stamping feet of the body.

The man looked up at the body, still spewing smoke and fire from the base of the neck, wings and limbs thrashing around. To the horror of the man, the large tail of the Jabberwock whipped on the ground where the blade was and it destroyed the ancient sword. Only after that did the body fall to the ground and twitched in place. The bodies legs, arms, wings and tail twitched as if the beast was having a seizure, and only did the man move again when the body ceased to move. He slowly walked up to the shattered bits of the sword and sadly picked up the shards, carefully putting them back into his bag. He then looked over at the head of the monster, only then did it dawn on him that he had killed the Jabberwock! He leaped for joy, trotting over to the head and picked it up, and he left it dead, and with its head, he went galumphing back.

When the proud man reached his master's home the man said:

"And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?" the proud man held up high the head of the Jabberwock, "Come to my arms, my beamish boy! O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!" the man chortled in his joy. The squire dropped the head and ran to his master's arms, and that very night, the squire was knighted; that was the start of his wonderful life as the White Knight.

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The now old man opened his eyes, thinking of all of what he had done in his long life. He looked again at the twisted land, looking at the castle. He stood up and leaned on the broken fence, thinking that all that he had done in his life, all the lives he had saved, even the slaying of the Jabberwock, was all for nought. He slowly hung his head in shame, his life, his sacrifices, were all in vain. All that he had worked so hard to protect had warped underneath his feet, and he was helpless to stop it. He fought, oh yes, did he fight. Everyday, he would charge into battle and save the helpless, everyday he would fight, but the next day, the ones he had saved were dead or gone when he went to check on them. He covered his eyes in shame, he was helpless now, not knowing how much longer he could fight now, he was just such an old man now. Just then, and old song had popped into his head from yore:

"I saw an aged aged man, A-sitting on a gate.

'Who are you, aged man?' I said. 'And how is it you live?'

And his answer trickled through my head, like water through a sieve."

He shook his head, and his eyes fell to the flower, growing happily by the fence. He walked over to the flower and said to it:

"Look at you my little friend, growing so happily in the mist such misery. How is it that you do so?" He thought back to the old poem recalling the last verse:

"And now, if e'er by chance I put my fingers into glue,

or madly squeeze a right-handed foot into a left-handed shoe,

or if I drop upon my toe a very heavy weight,

I weep,

for it reminds me so of that old man I used to know-

whose look was mild, whose speech was slow,

whose hair was whiter than the snow,

whose face was very like a crow,

with eyes, like cinders, all aglow,

who seemed distracted with woe,

who rocked his body to and fro,

and muttered mumblingly and low,

as if his mouth were filled with dough,

who snorted like a buffalo-

That summer evening long ago,

A-sitting on a gate."

"I see now," said the old knight, petting the flower, "you haven't forgotten. You haven't lost hope for this world. I almost lost hope, I almost forgot," he raised himself up and looked at the twisted land, "I will not become like that old man, I will continue to fight, I will keep my vow. I will continue on, until the end." Just then, he could hear something deep into the neighboring woods, he could hear the sounds of battle, and a woman crying out in pain.

"A maiden needs me, come my old friend," he said mounting on the old horse, "another battle awaits us!" The old horse groaned, not wanting to run so soon, but the horse ran forward blindly as the old knight guided him into another battle, with battle-ready arm raised up high, ready for the next battle ahead of them.

TO BE CONCLUDED

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**Well, I hope you liked this one shot! I won't point out what part of the poems goes where and junk, if you know what the poem is and the words in it, then you know I didn't misspell, or at least tried not to. **

**The White Knight, will make his appearance later in my 'hand in hand' story, so if you want to find out what happens next, you need to be patient and wait for the story to catch up.**

**Reviews are of course welcomed! Thank you.**


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